Something to Be Earned
by only-some-loser
Summary: Gomez was dead, Mac was hurt, James was fuming, and Jack could only do something about one of those problems. (tag to 3x05, Dia de Muertos Sicarios Family)


**AN: I know the end is kind of abrupt, but because I don't know what they're gonna do for the fallout of the ep, I figured ending it there was best. I hope you enjoy, and please leave a review!**

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Jack sighed as he leaned back against the plane they were commandeering. This sucked. Gomez was dead, and that meant that all of their valuable intel to extract from him was dead too. James was over there lecturing the man who killed him and grumbling and complaining, as he always seemed to be doing. That wouldn't help anything. Gomez was dead, and grumbling and complaining wouldn't bring the intel back. Besides, Jack had more important things to worry about while they waited for James to cool off. Mac was hurt. He had noticed the kid clutching his ribs and limping, although he had seemed to hide it from his father - or James just didn't care, which Jack figured was more likely, since Mac wasn't actively dying.

"How ya feelin', bud?" he asked, even though he knew the answer already.

"I'm fine," Mac replied, just as Jack knew he would, even though the kid grimaced as he said so. He never could hide anything from Jack, especially pain.

"Oh yeah, I'm sure you are. I'm sure you're just limpin' 'cause it's fun and your ribs itch, right?" Jack asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Mac rolled his eyes, and sighed, saying, "okay, fine, maybe going fifty feet down in a barely controlled descent ended a bit more painfully than I would've liked. He seems to be fine though, and so was Gomez, so I'm fine."

But that wasn't a good reason, and the fact that Mac thought it was made Jack's heart break. The boy was trying so damn hard to appear perfect for his father, even though he wasn't even sure yet if he wanted him back in his life. Jack knew exactly what he was thinking, if he was perfect, then maybe James wouldn't leave him again. If he never showed any weakness, then maybe he would be good enough for James to stick around and love him. But he couldn't live like that. Just because others were fine didn't mean that he had to be too. More than likely, that "barely controlled descent" had ended with Mac cushioning the fall of the others, which was why he was the one hurt and the others weren't. That just made Jack hate James even more. Maybe it wasn't really the man's fault this time, maybe it had just ended up that way because of bad luck, but still. Mac was hurt, and Jack was more than willing to blame James for it. As Jack knew all too well, things were just easier when there was something or someone to blame.

"But you're not fine," he gently replied. "And you have to let me see. It's not as if we're gonna be leaving any time soon." Jack stepped closer when Mac chuckled lightly, and didn't tell him he couldn't look. "Come on, lift it up."

"Jack, I'm fine, really," Mac insisted.

"Kid, if you don't lift up your shirt and let me check your ribs, then I'm just gonna do it myself," Jack replied in the most authoritative voice he could muster at the moment. "And you know I will."

Mac rolled his eyes, but gingerly lifted his shirt off. His annoyed mutter was cut off by a gasp of pain when he pulled his shirt a certain distance above his head. Jack was there in an instant.

"What hurts, bud?" he asked, his hands hovering over the sizable bruises peppering Mac's ribs.

"It's fine," the blond muttered, his typical response.

Jack rolled his eyes, but gently pressed on the bruises and around them, feeling for possible cracks or breaks. His heart broke at the pained sounds that escaped Mac's defenses, but he couldn't stop. He had to make sure that the kid was okay.

"Luckily, it looks like there's no cracks or breaks, but those bruises probably go all the way down," he said, straightening back up to help Mac get his shirt back over his head. He knew the kid would never ask for the help, but he seemed to be in enough pain that he wouldn't reject it if Jack just started helping.

"I said I was fine."

"Yeah, that's still not fine, bud," Jack said, looking down at Mac, who was seated on an old crate. "And we haven't even looked at your leg yet. So are we gonna argue about that too, or are you just gonna let me look?"

Mac rolled his eyes once again, but gently pulled his leg over his lap in order to take his boot and sock off. It was a slow, painstaking process, but he did it without help. He pulled his pant leg up, and exposed to Jack some terrible bruising that matched his ribs.

"Yikes, kid," Jack exclaimed, crouching down to gently take Mac's ankle in his hands. He prodded as gently as he could, asking Mac to bend his ankle this way and that. Jack did everything he could to block out the pain he heard, apologizing after every single sound Mac made. "I think it's sprained," he said with a grimace.

"That's what I thought," Mac muttered in reply, not meeting Jack's eyes.

"I'll help you onto the plane when it's time, and all the way back to Phoenix medical to get checked out for real, just in case, okay?" he asked. He knew Mac would rather just go home and put on a brace he already had, but Jack was no doctor, and he wanted, no, needed, to make sure that his diagnoses were right. He wouldn't get that at the kid's house. They would be going to Phoenix medical whether Mac wanted it or not, but it was always better when the kid just agreed.

"Alright," Mac said around a yawn. Jack would've been surprised at the sudden agreement, if it wasn't for the fact that Mac suddenly seemed incredibly tired. All that adrenaline that had kept his pain at bay was gone, and the long day's events were catching up on him.

"Come on, kid. Let's get you on the plane," Jack said, reaching around to take as much of Mac's weight as the kid would let him. Making sure that he was putting absolutely no weight whatsoever on his injured ankle, Jack helped Mac up into the plane, and got him seated and comfortable. He had a feeling that the kid would fall asleep on the flight - which would be a good thing in this type of plane and Mac's acrophobia - so he spread out on old blanket from the back over him, much to his annoyance at Jack's mothering.

Jack glanced out the window of the plane, to see if maybe James was done being pissed off enough that they could actually leave, only to see that James was already looking, and averted his gaze the moment Jack turned. He had been staring at them. Good. The man clearly needed lessons in how to take care of his son, and he didn't seem to be too eager to learn. This was the only way he was going to see it. Maybe the man regretted his actions and really did want to start a real relationship with Mac now that he had the clear opportunity, but that wasn't a pass. He didn't get to just wipe the slate clean, not in Jack's book. He had to earn the right to be in Mac's life, and so far, he hadn't. Maybe if he had tried to help his hurting son instead of being pissed off about losing the intel, that would've earned him some points. But no. He didn't. He cared more about the mission than Mac, and until that was no longer true, Jack would never let him off the hook. It took more than some words, it took actions - real actions, not just sitting at a diner ever week and calling it good. It took actions to prove how sorry he was for being such a piss poor excuse for a father, for abandoning his child, for manipulating his entire life, for lying to him repeatedly with no regret, for never planning on making contact again- the list went on. Jack was trying to put on an understanding front for Mac, because it seemed like the boy really did want to make an effort, but that was all it was, a front. Jack would never be comfortable with his kid spending time with James until the man proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that he could be trusted.

Jack rolled his shoulders to try to calm himself down. It wasn't a good time to get worked up about it. He looked back down at Mac, who was fast asleep. He smiled. Damn, he loved that kid.


End file.
